Walking and Kissing and Finding Your Tummy

Lumpyhead started walking last week.

Well, not really walking. Just taking a few Frankenstein steps and then plopping down on his butt. Or doing a drunk stagger away from the ottoman and falling down. He's certainly closer to walking than he was two weeks ago. He stands hesitantly and bobs and weaves and may be walking right now this very minute and I'm missing it. Ahhh!

He'll even take some steps holding my hand. Holding both his hands above his head produces an instant sit-down rather than bipedal forward motion (I don't think he trusts us), but he'll hold onto one hand and putter down the hall.

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He gives kisses now, on request. They're really not kisses, more like open-mouthed slobbers, which are kind of gross, but it's sweet. Fair warning: sometimes he bites.

If he's concentrating on something and you ask for a smoochie, he may just present his cheek, so you can kiss him. He's a busy guy, you know. He can't be bothered granting every request for a kiss.

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Yesterday, Lumpyhead patted the top of his belly. "That's your tummy," I told him. "Where's your tummy?" I asked, and he patted himself again. He still remembered the new trick this morning, much to his father's delight.

Now, if you ask him where his tummy is, he'll pat his lower ribcage.

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So, if you need him, Lumpyhead will be lurching around the house, patting his tummy and giving out slobbery kisses. He's like the bad guest at the end of a party.